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I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.

Reaping

Mags Flanagan

Victor of the Eleventh Hunger Games

Walking down the halls of the Trouble Youth Center, memories of almost sixty years assaulted her. She had followed the example set by One and Two, seeing how effective their own career programs were. Her first ever Victor, Sinbad, had convinced President Summer to allow her to start her school. Sinbad was dead now, but she could see the confident seventeen-year-old, his golden locks hugging his face, smiling as he promised to be Four's next Victor. In those very early days, all her tributes promised that, but he was the one she trained in secret. He was the one who came back to her. How unfair it was that she outlived her first Victor.

After his win, President Summer had granted her a huge piece of land in one of the abandoned villages. They were allowed to buy weapons from the Capitol, and actively train, under the guise of a center for the troubled youth of the district.

Mags didn't care for glory. The so-called honor the Victors from Two loved to go on and on about. No, she created her Academy to protect the youth of District 4. The ones who weren't trained. The ones who wouldn't survive the arena. She had sold her soul to do it, and if she had to make the choice again, she would.

Hopefully, that choice would never have to be made again. Mags had spent her life working towards the downfall of the Capitol, and they were closer than they had ever been before. She knew she didn't have many years left, but if the god her parents fervently believed in was real, she prayed she would live to see Four freed from the games. From Snow.

"Mags?" A familiar voice called. The old woman turned, giving Caspian Nyle a small smile. The boy was one of her Victors. Well, every Victor in the district was hers, as far as Mags was concerned, but she had personally mentored him. Caspian was the last tribute she pulled out of the arena before Finnick. After Finny, she retired as an official mentor, using her various connections in the Capitol for the benefit of her district as a whole.

Caspian won the Fifty-Ninth, one of the more brutal years.

"Come on. It's almost time for the reaping," Caspian says, crossing his well-muscled arms. "Tacitus wants to see you before he starts pulling names."

Mags nodded, Tacitus had become District 4's escort the year before Finnick won, by her own political maneuvering. Not only was he one of Plutarch's more brilliant agents, he treated the tributes like they were real people. And when a boy or girl came back to Four, he always offered a shoulder to cry on. "I suppose I should offer him some tea."

Margaret Cresta

District 4 Female Tribute

Margaret stared at herself in the mirror, admiring the deep blue dressed. Her sister had purchased it from the Capitol. A Cinna originally. The Girl-on-Fires stylist had opened up his own fashion studio, along with his district partner Portia. He had become Katniss Everdeen's personal stylists and declined the invitation to become Four's stylist.

The outer districts tended to only have the better stylists for a little bit. Once their talent became known, One, Two, and Four tended to grab them up. If what Finnick had said was true, Cinna and Portia rejected One and Two just as firmly as Four. He said Katniss Everdeen was the only tribute he would consider, the same as Portia said about Peeta. Of course, if the rumors were to be believed, the two were planning to retire from after these games, having already made their mark.

Eventually, the hunger games warmed its way into her mind. This reaping would put her in even more danger than before. The Third Quarter Quell would only reap kids related to Victors. Only allow volunteers related to Victors. On a normal year, the citizens of District 4 didn't have to worry about being reaped. Almost every year Four had volunteers. Not for glory, or to bring the district honor, but to keep their unprepared children out of the games.

This year most of their trained candidates couldn't volunteer. If Margaret was going to get reaped, this was the year it was going to happen. And if she got Reaped, she might never come home.

Margaret! Don't think like that! She chastised herself. Thinking like an outer district isn't going to help her. She had the training that only her district partner and kids from two other districts had. If she got reaped, she would join the alliance, surrounding herself with the best, and they'd whip out at the other tributes. When it broker, she would kill her way to the top.

After seeing what the games did to her older sister, the last thing Margaret wanted was to go into the games. The Victor's were supposed to get a life of luxury, but she had seen first hand what the games really did to someone. The money helped care for her sister, but Margaret would give almost anything to have stopped Annie from volunteering five years ago.

Before she had gone into the games, Annie had been a confident girl, always on the lookout for fun and adventure. She had been the model career, and when she was reaped, she led the pack with an iron fist. Until the boy she loved had his head cut off in front of her. It destroyed her, and the sister she had grown to know shattered.

"Margaret!" Her mother called, drawing her attention away from her thoughts. Her mother was dressed in the Pearlie white uniform of the Peacekeepers. Margaret knew that Peacekeepers took a twenty-year commitment not to have children or start a family, but somehow her mother had gotten around that rule. The best Margaret could figure is her mom's family had some pull with the higher-ups in the Peacekeepers and defense, and she could get around the rules with those connections.

If that was the case, she didn't have the pull to make sure her children didn't go into the Hunger Games. She couldn't stop Annie from volunteering and losing her.

"Yeah?" She answered back.

"It's time to head down to the reaping. Make sure your sister goes with you. If Etta wants to keep her internship with the mayor, she can't be seen being late for the reaping," Gloria Cresta said. Unlike her husband and children, Margaret's mother didn't have to attend the reaping. She wasn't a citizen of Four and a Peacekeeper at that.

Margaret couldn't do anything about Perla. Even since her older sister got her own boat (a gift from Finnick on her birthday) she had been out at sea. The Capitol didn't have a navy, only a small fleet of patrol boats to patrol the shores. A navy would never play a larger part in the govern ship of Panem, not when they had Hovercraft superiority. So having your own boat, going out at sea was the closest thing to being free a citizen from Four could get.

The boat had brought about a strange change in Perla. Before she could never take anything seriously, always one with a laugh etched on her lips. Even her boy toys weren't anything more than that. Out at sea, things were different. She could really come into her own. She had a small crew and a decent-sized business in bringing in fish. Though she never lost her carefree attitude.

When Margaret checked Etta's room, she wasn't surprised to find it empty. She wondered why her mom even bothered asking about her. Etta wanted to go into politics and had been hanging by the mayor ever since she got her internship. The highest office she would ever be able to hold under the system was mayor, so she was getting a head start on it. Unless their mother could pull some strings. It might be possible, considering she had enough influence to break the no family rule.

Checking herself in the mirror one last time, Margaret reluctantly left her house. Ever since Annie's Victor, she and her family have lived in Victor's Village with her sister. Annie couldn't bear to be apart from then, and in her fragile mental state, doctors were afraid of leaving her by herself. Not that Margaret was a big of it either.

After most of her life by the sea in a small town, Victor's Village was a big change. The huge house and luxury were foreign to her. Even now, five years later, she woke up in silk sheets feeling like she didn't belong.

If she was reaped, and she came home, Margaret would have to get used to it.

Victor's Village connected with the main settlement in the district. Situated on top of a cliff, it overlooked the sea. Easily the best view in all of District 4.

At the edge of the village, Margaret started down the track that leads to the town. If she wanted to, she could call a car, but today she decided she'd rather walk. The sun was out, and the summer breeze felt warm against her skin.

Margaret wondered if she would get to see Damon and Isa before the reaping began. She hadn't seen much of her best friend since the announcement of the quell twist. Isa had been the chosen volunteer this year until not being related to a Victor removed that chance for her. Personally, Margaret was thankful her friend would never be thrown into the arena, not that she would ever say that to Isa's face.

And then there was Demon. She missed him so much, but with the chance of going into the games, Margaret couldn't stay close to him. If worse came to worse, it would be better for him.

Neptune Odair

District 4 Male Tribute

Walking down from the village to the town took half an hour at a leisurely, but Neptune didn't have time for such a pace. He had to get down to the town square before the reaping started.

Every child or sibling of a Victor trained in Four. In a normal decade might have one or two years were no one volunteers, but they usually fronted a career. After his older brother won, his parents forced him to train, and at the time Neptune couldn't why. Unless he was unlucky enough to be chosen on one of those very unlike years Four didn't have a volunteer ready, he would never go into the arena even if he was reaped. Now that the quell had been announced, Neptune was very glad his parents forced it on him. If he was reaped, he'd be prepared.

Neptune made it into town with time to spare. A new personal record. Unlike his older brother, Neptune didn't inherit his mother's golden locks, but like Finnick, he had his father's eyes. Also, like Finnick, he was beautiful. No other way around it. The same genes that ran through him had made his brother the defacto sex symbol of the Capitol. If this was a normal year, and he ended up a tribute, his looks might have granted him a similar fanfare as his brother. But every tribute in the arena was related to a Victor, and he wouldn't stand out as much.

"Put a shirt on!" One of the old ladies yelled at him as he passed. Dressed in just swimming trunks and sandals, he was easily showing off more skin than anyone else in the town right now. If he was chosen (there was a good chance it would be him) Neptune swore no one in Panem would forget just who he was related to.

Making it to the square with time to spare, Neptune sighed into the Reaping and took his spot with the few other legible eighteen-year-olds. Standing in his place, Neptune got a lot of looks. He stood striking and grand, a wry smirk at the edge of his smile, taking in everything with a wink.

Four places down in the fourteen-year-old section, he could see his brother Poseidon giggling. When he caught his brother's eye, Neptune winked.

Of the three Odair brothers, Finnick was the only one who escaped being named after a sea god. He had asked his parents only once why then gave him and his younger brother such... Capitol sounding names. His grandfather had overheard and spotted the rhetoric he had been fed his whole life. Old Ririck Odair (rest his soul) had been one of the few loyalists that remained in the district, and he had been the one to pressure his parents into giving him more ridiculous sounding Capitol names.

As Neptune allowed his thoughts to continue to roam, the Square filled up more and more until the mayor took the stage. Neptune focused his attention on the stage as the Treaty of Treason was read. Like every year, he turned it out, waiting until their escort finally took the stage.

Tacitus wore a dark blue shirt, with silver star's sown in. Matching his ridiculous silver hair. "Well, let's start with the lucky young man first!" He decided, going toward the bowel. Neptune held his breath and waited until he walked back to the microphone. He opened the slip, and for a moment Tacitus's gaze remained on the paper.

"Neptune Odair!" He cried happily. Honestly, Neptune had been half expecting that outcome. Finnick Odair was easily the most famous Victor from Four at that moment, and here his little brother was, strong and hale. Eighteen years old, and no doubt ready to fight and kill like his older brother.

Taking a deep breath, Neptune forced his face to remain in the same position, willing his body not to give away how nervous he felt. Climbing the stage, he shook hands with Tacitus and turned to give his districts the most cocky smile he could manage.

"And now for the lucky young lady!"

That lucky young lady turned out to be none other than Margaret Cresta. Finnick loved her sister so much, and Neptune lived in his house. He was more than a family with an eighteen-year-old girl climbing the stage. He would never tell him, but she was easily the best looking girl in the district. Neptune might be going into that arena, but he would be the one walking out, attractiveness of his district partner aside.

As he shook hands with her, Neptune regretted that it had come to that, but he was not going to die.

Plutarch Heavensbee

Head Gamemaker/Rebel Leader

Alma Coin's grey eyes bore into his. They vaguely reminded him of the eyes of Katniss Everdeen and Haymitch Abernathy. Though not like. These eyes lacked something that the bright grey eyes of the Seam people did not. These eyes haunted his nightmares, in the same way President Snow's roses did. The president of District 13 was no someone Plutarch wanted to deal with had he had any other option. Thirteen was their lifeline. Without the district, their rebellion would never succeed.

"Madam President. What your asking for is-"

"Doable," she cut in, glaring at him. "Before it was impossible. Now that you're Head Gamemaker, new doors are open to us."

Plutarch closed his eyes and resisted the urge to rub his temples. It was true, as Head Gamemaker he could benefit the rebellion in a way that he never could have before. It was only his position that made him comfortable enough to even attempt to invade the arena when they made their move.

"You want me to rescue a tribute," Plutarch repeated. The President of District 13 nodded. "Other than last year, only one tribute makes it out of the arena alive."

She should know that. Alma might not have lived in Panem proper, but Thirteen was able to pick up the games broadcast. She had watched her fair share of games. She should know that the arena was protected against outside interference.

"And officially, that will happen," Coin confirmed. "But we are ready to create an artificial of the tribute in question. With you overseeing the event, it should be quite easy to make sure the body is passed off as real. We have five more games until we're ready to move. I want one tribute from each of those games, if at all possible."

"If I'm discovered trying to get a tribute out of the arena, I'll be executed. Our plans hang on the Head Gamemaker being our agent," he tried to explain. Again.

"As I understand it, three of the Gamemakers below you are your agents. Two of them publicly have positioned themselves against you, haven't they?" She asked.

"A contingency plan, madam president. If I'm discovered, one of the two that have always been trying to usurp my position might be given the job. Thus we can keep on track," he said.

"So if one of them is discovered, the evidence won't lead back to you," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

"That's true. But it would put one of my most useful agents in danger-"

"The benefits of a living tribute is enormous. You yourself argued that. The propaganda that we could use them far outweighs the risks, does it not?" She threw his words back in his face.

"Yes. When I gave the suggestion, I meant a few years later. Once we have a greater network in the games," he reiterated. As Head Gamemaker, he was in the position to station his agents all throughout the Game's system. He had already started. "Trying to get a tribute out this early-"

She raised her hand to stop him. "You've made your point, soldier Heavensbee. If you think it's too dangerous, our other operations take priority. If you find a chance to do it right, I expect you to try."

"Of course," he answered. It was hard enough when he was serving just one president. Now he had two breathing down his neck, both asking for more and more.

Alma Coin nodded and the communicate cut out. Breathing a sigh of relief, Plutarch deactivated Beetee's device, slipping into his pocket. It was always a risk contacting Thirteen in the Capitol, but it was one he had to take. Now that it was over, he could just relax for a little bit, and prepare himself to become the Head Gamemaker again-

"Sir?" Fulvia's voice cracked in his ear. "Your car is here. The Gamemaker meeting will begin soon."

So much for his time to relax.

Author's Note:

Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the reaping chapter! A big thanks to Finnick18 and A Proud Bibliophile for our D4 tributes

I plan to leave the first two chapters on beta'd, and just focus on this chapter and what comes after. Save some time and all.

So how I've decided to do this is break each day into chapters. This will be the only Reaping POV, because I feel like they'd all become repetitive if I did more. Sorry about the change in plans.

One chapter for the train ride, which will focus on one tribute's POV from three different districts.

I'll have a Capitol character POV for the opening ceremony/parade ride.

Each day of training will comprise one chapter, with multiple POV's in each chapter.

The interviews will most likely be from Caesar's POV or an audience member. Possibly a Victor or mentor

The Bloodbath will be from the POV of an audience member.

Each day in the arena after the initial bloodbath will be broken up between multiple POV's, from tributes and spectators like.

Finally, when the Victor wins, the rest of the story will be told from (mostly) their POV.